


the princess of tennis

by supremeboi (krystaljung)



Category: f(x), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternate Universe - Tennis, F/M, I tagged it just in case...... but honestly very minor, M/M, Minor pairings within!, Sports, Tennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystaljung/pseuds/supremeboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>— All he sees is the white top, dark athletic shorts with "SNU Athletics" embroidered by the thigh hem and swaddled in an over-sized bomber jacket with kanji on the back that— from an embarrassing addiction to the similar anime— he's sure reads "Princess of Tennis."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [projectcyphr](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/projectcyphr) collection. 



> or rather: in which namjoon is a small bi boy who Suffers Every Day™
> 
> non important context: the flower mentioned in the beginning of the fic is a rhododendron. the symbolism of the flow is "danger" and "caution" and actually was used 2 foreshadow the tennis ball incident ;;;;;; 
> 
> this was written with tennis in the forefront of my mind and then slowly...... fell to the background....... please don't take it too seriously i chat a Lot of shit throughout this ;___;

**MONTH 1**  

 

“In order to complete the last module for this year pre exams, I’m going to ask you to do a project in which you study another student over the course of two months.”  

As soon as Professor Choi said that, the class echoed entirely with groans. Projects were never good news when it came to Professor Choi, hell, they were never good news in general. They were long, and tedious, and had to be constantly redrawn to the “ _best of your abilities, students_.” Namjoon never really did well with that time sensitive sort of thing. 

“You’re not the only class to do this. No, throughout the university a few subjects have been chosen… psychology and, what was it… World Dance, Theatre maybe? They’re all I can remember right now.” He sounded sheepish for once as he swept his gaze along his students. “There are definitely a few more classes, though. Ask around your friends if you wish to know.” 

The art room look cramped at first glance, but really it was just the perfect size for the initial twelve students, and people had transferred in during the middle of the first year, or so Professor Choi liked to complain about the people and not the room. Whenever someone mentioned, on the off chance, getting a new room to fit everyone, he said something ridiculous, along the lines of how it “ruined the sanctity of art.”

 _Ridiculous._ Namjoon thought, bitterly. _Give me the space I need._

“The catch is, however, it has to be someone you don’t know very well. When you report to me not next Monday but the Monday after, since, as you all know there's going to be a two week break for most subjects, I want you to know who the person you’re studying is, we _will_ know if you know them or not. I expect you to choose well, or I will choose for you.” 

Namjoon exchanged a sour look with his desk partner Heeyeon, who looked like her idea had been a paper ball crumpled up and thrown back at her head. It would have been so easy to grab Yoongi and draw the never-ending stiff positions and various outfits all in the comfort of the recording studio, or maybe get Hoseok to let him into the dance studio whenever they had practices and do various studies on anyone who was around (which meant Jimin. Who was he fooling?) 

Heeyeon eyed the clock as it neared closer to 1:30. “This is so annoying. Ugh,” she murmured, her dark fringe falling over her eyes as she glared daggers at the back of their teacher’s head as he started writing up times and dates and check-ins on the interactive whiteboard, “it would’ve been easy to use Hyojin unnie.” 

“And me with Jimin.” Namjoon grumbled, slowly sinking down so he was resting his temple against the front cover of his sketchbook as they chuntered together. "Ah..." His breath left him in the form of a heavy sigh.

His sketchbook wasn’t very big, around A4 size with a coarse cover that made it as comfortable as sandpaper to rest on, and moleskin paper inside that helped bring his sketches to life. Or just added pigmentation. 

Heeyeon opened her mouth, but the ring of the class bell brought them out of their conversation. She looked annoyed for a moment, until a brilliant smile spread across her face at the prospect of lunch.

They immediately started to pack up their supplies like the rest of their class, and Namjoon relished in the sound of paintbrushes and pens clattering together as he thought about getting out of here for two weeks.

Heeyeon looking mournfully down at Namjoon’s sketchbook as he flipped through it, checking he hadn’t dropped any loose paper. 

“Your book is so good.” She mumbled, pinning dark hair behind her ear as she leant back and picked up a piece that was sliding out of the book. It was A5, crinkled around the edges on some flimsy paper he’d found around his dorm: a single portrait of a rhododendron. He had used watery pinks that blended from dark to light, and the green was a stark contrast he secretly liked a lot.  

“Yours is better, noona.” Namjoon smiled all placating-like, as she slid it back in his book. “You’re not even doing this full time and you’re more talented than me.” He added, fixing her with a more serious look. She was pulling on her green coat, and she laughed, peering over her collar. 

“Flatterer. Are you going to the Roof?”  

The Roof wasn’t actually a roof. It was one of the few cafeterias scattered in and out of campus. There was an overlook onto the tennis courts and the gardens, and usually the sun hit the glass roof just right to keep whoever sat there pretty warm, and it was where Namjoon’s lot could usually be found skulking around for lunch or any free periods shared together. 

“Yeah, I need to mourn me failing this year in advance.” He chuckled, pulling the dark beanie he wore down further. He slung his bag over his shoulder, the strap a reassuring weight across his chest, and grabbed his sketchbook.

They ambled toward the communal drawer, ready to put their stuff away, sliding their sketchbooks in shutting the drawer. 

“Good, we can walk together. Ready?” 

“I’ll follow your lead, noona.” She hit him on the arm, then headed for the door, with Namjoon hot on her trails. 

The Roof was packed. In hindsight, of course it would be packed— its lunch time, and its Thursday, and everyone knows that on Thursday’s the cooking staff serve Westernized dishes for cheap. It was more of the cheap aspect that enticed the university students. Namjoon could relate. With dorm accommodation fees and everything else piled on top, usually all he did was grab a drink and a salad and hope for the best. 

He split off from Heeyeon after they bought their food with a smile before making a beeline toward and up the stairs towards the outlook. The sun was bright today, truly showing the transition from spring to summer and it made him regret wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath the graphic tee he already wore. Dipping up the stairs, he saw he was the first one here.  

Slumping into his chair and across the table, he narrowly missed his lunch tray. Although he didn't like the meal much either, he really didn't want to become one with the pasta. Hoseok, and Taehyung giggled conspiratorially, sliding in beside and opposite him respectively; seemingly appearing from nowhere. 

"What's the matter now, Joonie?" Hoseok cooed, and _ah… here we go_. 

Taehyung hummed innocently. Namjoon could practically feel the grin. "What, nobody understand the subliminal philosophical meaning behind your piece in Art class? Is Picasso that misunderstood that nobody will give him a chance?" 

"Okay, stop." Namjoon held up a weak finger, and by the muted grumble almost hit the jackpot— up Taehyung's nostril. "It's not like that,” he made a face, then added, “not today, at least.” 

"What is it then?" Hoseok said around a mouthful of pasta. How he managed to look as graceful through the bolognese was beyond Namjoon, but that seemed to sum his friend’s life up in general. Jung Hoseok, better known as SNU’s resident sunshine, was a dance major that truly lifted morale wherever he went, be it in the studio or throughout the halls. Taehyung was exactly the same, with his boxy smile and endless hugs. He was a Literature major however, and spent an equal amount of time reading manhwa in bed as he did in the lecture hall studying the impact of Western poetry on homogeneous societies. 

“I have another module project.” 

“But don’t you ace those all the time?” Taehyung said after a sip of his Sprite, eyes wide. “You’re really good, hyung.” He stretched out the ‘really’, and Namjoon looked up and smiled at him. It was nice when he did, but usually Taehyung didn’t sit with them at lunch, or at least not Namjoon. Hoseok often skirted both his friends and his dongsaengs tables, but Namjoon could only be found in their little outlook.  

“I’m not bad, but it’s just long.” He carried on complaining. “It also runs into summer.” 

“What do you actually have to do?” Hoseok asked, smiling as Donghyuk leaned in with Taegyun to gesture that they were getting food before leaving.  

“Study someone over the year and essentially draw them, annotation included.” Namjoon responded, then making a noise similar to “bleh”, and slumped back over the table again.  

“Boring.” Taehyung offered, making a face, and Hoseok ruffled his despondent friend’s hair. “Can you do me? I’ll dress up like Shakespeare, you know, with the ruffle neck thing and read Macbeth really dramatically.” He leapt up, onto the chair.

Namjoon looked to see Taehyung suddenly towering over him and Hoseok, his mouth agape at this surreal scene.

Taehyung pulled out the small notebook that Jimin had bought for him first year, the one he seemingly always kept in his washed out, denim jacket pocket, pen and all. He posed extravagantly, making Hoseok giggle and Namjoon just stare. 

“It has to be a stranger,” Namjoon responded with only that, too stunned to elaborate.  

Hoseok looked up at Taehyung like he was the sun, which, everyone in their respective friendship groups did, so it wasn’t particularly new. “Alright, Taetae, down boy.”  

Taehyung pouted, hopping down in one quick jump and running a hand through his strawberry blonde hair. “Alright, so who are you going to choose?” 

Namjoon slumped across the table again. 

 

★

  

The following few days were almost a blur, considering that most of the subjects were now officially off for two weeks for the students to choose their “muses” as Namjoon had affectionately started calling it even though he was ready to completely flop the module.  

Taehyung was free though, since his Literature and Poetry class was taking part in this event too, and so they bundled up in Taehyung’s dorm only leaving for class revision pickup runs and to pick up some pizza for three days straight. Only as the fifth day began, marking the day of Monday and Jimin joined them (and inevitably started clearing up their messy dorm) did they realise they only had the lesser part of a week and a bit to find some stranger to study. 

Namjoon stretched out, the _Wu-Tang Clan Forever! 1997_ threadbare XXXL shirt that he’d thrifted a while back that he wore falling back on his upper arms and bundled by his shoulders. He pulled the duvet-like blanket around him and dove deeper into the sofa. It was just after 12 p.m. but it felt like 5 in the morning. “Who are you going to go for?” 

“There’s this younger year on the Track team who looks like he’d be a good fit.” 

“Got a name?” 

Taehyung ruffled his own hair back and out of his face. It was a light blond, kind of tinged toward strawberry and went well with the red plaid blanket he had wrapped around him. They were watching re-runs of some dubbed anime, but even Taehyung lost interest as he frowned. “Jiminie, what was that kid’s name, the one with the thighs?” 

 _Isn’t that_ _Jimin_ _?_   Namjoon thought to himself appraisingly, peering around the corner. Jimin stood with his back to them as he peered through their fridge and picked up the last slice of pizza. He was wearing basketball shorts but one leg was hitched up so he could scratch at the pale expanse of skin of his thigh. Namjoon looked away, hoping that he wasn't caught by Jimin _or_ Taehyung.  

“Jeon Jeongguk.” Jimin called back, waving the slice of pizza at them but still focused on whatever he was doing.

Taehyung coughed obviously and pulled Namjoon’s attention back. He looked sheepish, and Taehyung mimed through a pillow at him. Caught. Namjoon’s thing for Jimin was almost globally known, though whilst everyone seemed to know it, it seemed like Jimin was the only one who didn’t. _That was fine though_ , he reasoned after most days when Jimin was the human representation of a star, or when he showed up at the art room when Namjoon had been camping out all evening trying to finish this one last piece with an energy drink and his company to get him through the rest of it.

Jimin made his way back to them, dropping the pizza slice on the table and making his way to Namjoon; lifting the blanket. “Scoot up, hyung.” 

“Yah…” Namjoon mumbled weakly, attempting to sound indignant and failing as he shuffled across anyway. Jimin grabbed Namjoon’s wrist lightly and pulled his arm around his neck. Namjoon let it happen. Taehyung shot Namjoon a look that he promptly ignored, suddenly a lot more intent on watching Soul and Maka be blasted across the Italian battlefield than be called out. 

“Who are you planning on focusing on, hyung?” Jimin mumbled, after a few moments of silence.  

“I dunno. It would be so easy if I could do you.” Namjoon mumbled, his head resting back on the sofa cushion. A moment passed before it shot up again, “For the project. Module coursework. Study you, I mean.” His word vomit came in droves, and both Taehyung and Jimin burst into bright peals of laughter. They trailed off into quiet, and waited for Namjoon's composure to recharge. Namjoon's eyes focused on how Maka fought tooth and nail against a hardened Crona, fighting against something that wouldn't changed. Namjoon thought it was a metaphor for... something. He didn't focus on how Jimin's hand was still around his wrist, his fingers small enough so that he couldn't grip the entire circumference of it. 

“Has Hoseok hyung’s class been selected for this?” Jimin asked to anyone who knew the answer after a while, a yawn escaping him silently. Hoseok had decided to switch from Biological Science to World Dance mid-way through his first year, and he was the happiest they had ever seen him. Now he was in his third year, like Namjoon, and thriving. 

Taehyung replied, “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ in a way that annoyed Namjoon with the extra noise but endeared him at the same time. “Well, I asked him already, but that was when I didn’t even know my class had so… Maybe his has?” 

“Mm. I’ll ask around.” 

“Shit!” Namjoon suddenly exclaimed, making Jimin jump at the sudden noise and Taehyung send him a bleary eyed look of muted annoyance. “I have to go and pick up Heeyeon noona’s book and take it to the tennis room.” 

“Yah, Kim Namjoon,” Jimin grumbled, and _really_ , how he managed to take so many liberties with him, Namjoon had no idea. To be honest though, out of all their friends and peers, Jimin was probably the most likely to get away with that casual speech. “I’m comfortable.” 

“Yeah, and I’m late Jimin-ah, so,” Namjoon shuffled out of Jimin’s grip, fumbling and embarrassed under Jimin’s uncharacteristic sharp eye. As an apology, he tucked Jimin back in under the cover before leaning over to the table to nab the slice.  

“Yah! Hyung!” Jimin and Taehyung managed in unison, mildly horrified at this daylight theft. 

“I owe you pizza, my favourite dongsaengs whom I treasure,” He waved at them vaguely, then placed the slice between his teeth and quirked his eyebrows. 

He headed for the door, slipping into his trainers, and stopped to look at himself in the landscape; taking the slice out of his mouth. His blonde hair was brushed out of his face and a bit of a mess, so he ran his hand through it to reach some semblance of order. Then he took stock.

There was that annoying spot he had next to the mole on his neck that just wouldn’t go away, and the dark circles under his eyes still hadn’t left even though all he’d been doing recently was sleep. It didn’t particularly matter though, since all he’d be doing this next week was see his friends and carry out every one of Heeyeon noona’s whims. 

“Text me if you want anything, guys.” Namjoon said in lieu of a goodbye, and Taehyung waved his phone at him in lieu of a response as he slipped out of the room and toward the art room. 

 

★

 

He didn't see it coming. He supposes, in retrospect, that he's glad he didn't see it coming, but at this point in his life, he was mad. The ball hit him square in the middle of the head, right in the centre where his eyebrows met. Now realistically, when you consider a tennis ball, it shouldn't hurt much, say, you hypothetically get hit by one. Right? Wrong.  

It's the outer casing that fools you. Well, more like the fuzz. It's soft, but ultimately coarse— especially when it's old. After 1000 hits to the rough floor of a tennis court it ends up looking and feeling like worse for wear. And then the inside. _God,_ there must be something hard in there for it to hurt as much as it did. To be fair, if it wasn't as messy and untidy as it was, and rather more clean and new, it would have hurt a lot more.

So an initially upright Namjoon ended up falling forward and crumpled in an ugly looking heap, hands and knees tingling. What a way to start the day, he thought bitterly. The obnoxiously bright ball that looked like it was leaking fuzz rolled past him, and he cursed. Never been one to partake in optional sport, he was positive tennis balls were supposed to be a lot more soft than this.  

His head ached, a dull thud resounding where the ball had hit him, and he shuffled over until he rested on his side, Heeyeon noona’s sketch book gently placed to the side. Luckily, since it was lunch time, the outside area was empty, (and he prayed to God his friends at the Roof weren’t looking out the window) so he faced zero embarrassment— “But who hit the ball?” Namjoon grumbled quietly, tugging off his cap to alleviate some pressure. 

“Hey!” Someone called from a while away, and from where they stood it was like a dark silhouette in the distance. The sun was still high and blaring bright in the stark blue sky, and right behind the person who had called out to Namjoon. “Are you okay?” 

He couldn’t see much. He blinked, dazed and confused, when the figure starts to run up to him, and his mouth runs dry. It’s a girl, with dark brown hair that reaches to the middle of her back in a neat French braid. As she got closer to him, all he sees is the fitted white top paired with dark athletic shorts that met at the bottom hem of her shirt. The shorts only bit of brightness was the "SNU Athletics" embroidered in white by the thigh hem. She covered up her gym kit with an over-sized bomber jacket with kanji on the back that— from an embarrassing addiction to the similar anime he’d only been watching a few days ago— he's sure reads "Princess of Tennis." 

He didn’t say anything, and the girl’s face distorted into something that leaned a bit more toward irritated than worried. “What? I didn’t concuss you, did I?” She groaned, tucking a piece of hair that fell out of the braid behind her ear, looking like she was going to reach out to him.  

She was pretty. Her eyes were nicely shaped and she was bare faced, yet her skin was perfect. There was a nice contrast to her slightly sun-tanned skin and her dark hair, and her legs were almost as long as Namjoon’s. But she looked at Namjoon like he was more of a nuisance rather than someone she had injured, which finally spurred him into action. 

He finally let out a sigh, something like annoyance creeping into his tone. “No you didn’t concuss me.” 

She stared down at him, surprised, her jacket sleeves bunched up at the dip of her elbow. The spring was soon coming to an end, and the summer heat was finally setting in, but with this mix of seasons it seemed like all around them was entirely silent— no spring birds, no planes blaring overhead, nothing. Finally, she held a hand out to him. It hovered for a moment, before Namjoon reached up and took it; his finger pads stinging from the grazes he sustained on the way down. 

He was definitely taller than her, and she was not as tall as he assumed. It was all a matter of perspective, he supposed. He rubbed his hands, tingling, against his ripped jeans which the girl’s eyes followed them down to.  

“Oh my God,” She yelped in clear English, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away to take a look at his right knee more; squatting down. He didn’t know what he was more surprised at: her English, or the way she’d taken a complete 180 on her attitude. 

His face scrunched up though, confused at her reaction— was it the jeans? Were ripped jeans too circa MCR break-up emo for her?— as he bent over slight and looked at his knee. Through the gaps in his jeans, his right knee was all scraped up from where he had completely stacked it, blood trailing lightly down into black material. “Ah,” he winced. _Just what I need_.  

“I’m so sorry?!” She exclaimed, so alarmed he’d managed to sustain so much damage from a single tennis ball hit she’d made it sound like a question. “I’m good at first aid.”  

“It’s really not—“ He attempted, weakly, because he was going to be late for Heeyeon and then she’d guilt him into coffee runs for a week, and— and she tugged on his wrist again. 

“Yah." She said in easy banmal that surprised him, "Come with me.”

The stranger said it firmly, long fingers in a vice grip around his wrist. She tugged again and Namjoon couldn’t say no. Her expression was cold, and her eyes held the expression that Namjoon was a complete inconvenience. When he didn’t make to leave without getting cleaned up, she grabbed his hat, the ball and the sketchbook, before her long fingers found purchase on his wrist again. She lead on, and with the sun beating down on their backs, they left.  

 

In a matter of minutes, Namjoon found himself sat on a three-piece table in the co-ed communal room, the cold wood seeping into his jeans, and his foot propped up on a box of football equipment. It was to make it easier for the girl to tend to him, and to “stem to bleeding” or _something_.  

“Sorry for hitting you, by the way. I’m not sure I said that yet.” She said, chewing her bottom lip, the corners of her mouth the most inviting thing he’d ever seen. It was quiet, like a lot of things about her, he was beginning to find out. She dabbed at his knee in between the stripped fabric since Namjoon outright refused to take his trousers off in front of a stranger, which, was fair. 

That was the thing though, she _was_ still a stranger. A very pretty stranger, with delicate fingers painted a deep red. They were slightly calloused that Namjoon guessed from gripping at the tennis racket for however long but somehow they were smooth, still treating him with care. She dabbed at the grazes lightly, like she was afraid of hurting him— _him_ _,_ the world’s biggest klutz. Namjoon thought she was beautiful, but still a stranger. 

“What’s your name?” Namjoon found himself asking after a while, eyes glued to the crown of her head. She stilled for a moment. Maybe she was deciding whether he deserved that bit of information or not. She may be a stranger, but so was he. Suddenly she dipped back, her weight resting on her haunches to bin the dirtied wipe and start afresh with a bottle of antiseptic. 

“Hmm…” She intoned quietly, before coming back without warning and swabbing at his knee. He hissed, and she replied: “Soojung.” 

Maybe he’d learn to associate her name with an ebbing pain. “Just Soojung?” 

Her dark eyes flicked up to meet Namjoon’s. Her lashes were long, and dark, and dark, and dark. Everything about her was dark. Dark red nails, dark eyes, dark shorts, dark. Part of him was in love.  

“Jung Soojung.” She replied after a pause, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“When were you born?” He asked, as she cleaned out any chance of infection.  

“What’s with the questions?” 

“You did almost obliterate me,” Namjoon parried, chuckling, “surely this is a good recompense.” 

“Who uses the word recompense on the daily?” She parried bluntly, focused on cleaning his graze. 

“Kim Namjoon.” Namjoon said, hoping he sounded suave and chic, but ended up adding: “That’s me, by the way. I… Yeah.” 

She laughed, a tiny burst of light in her everything dark. She covered her mouth like it was a reflex, like she hadn’t meant to and muted the rest, but Namjoon wanted more. “I was born in ’94.” 

“Really? Me too!” He sounded a bit more excited than he wanted to let on. Her eyebrow raised, pursing her lips, but said nothing. 

She prised open a wide rip where the graze was, and placed a large self-adhesive plaster on it, before collecting all the stuff she had used and either binned it or put it into an office he couldn’t see. He still sat there, mildly pleased someone had taken the time to do that; legs swinging back and forth in unison. 

“Friends, huh.” She said, sounding a bit awkward. She didn’t seem like she spoke this much. _Me too, honestly_. He thought with an inward grimace. 

“Friends.” He offered out his hand, ( _oh God, you total loser, who shakes hands with someone, is this the 90’s?)_ and she— after a tentative pause— took it. Namjoon’s hand managed to cover hers completely but she had the firmer grip. “So you play tennis, yeah?” He tried, wanting to keep the conversation rolling. 

“Mhm…” Soojung made a noise instead of replying, something he’d noticed she seemed to do quite a lot. “Sorry,” she said again suddenly, “about your head. And your knee. I had a bad serve.” 

He waved his hands frantically in a denying gesture. “Don’t worry about it! It’s fine, it didn’t even hurt that much.” 

She looked a mixture of uncomfortable and annoyed had looked, like she was unsure how to gauge Namjoon, before her phone buzzed. Soojung reached into her pocket and held a hand up in a universal “hold that thought” gesture, as she checked it. “That’s my coach. I have to get back to training with the girls, so…” 

“Oh, yeah.” He hoped he didn’t look as disappointed as he felt. He didn’t even know why he felt disappointed, because in reality she did actually hit him in the head and make him late for his— “Shit. Heeyeon noona.” 

If her expression could be anything, it was a question mark personified. She looked like she’d gone back to the cold girl he’d interacted with initially. “Heeyeon unnie? The volleyball captain?”  

“Yeah, the reason why I was heading over to the sports block was because I had to give her the sketchbook.” He glanced around and spied it on the bench a ways away from him.  

“I can go find her if you want… It’s almost the end of lunch, so,” She said, eyebrows raised and bouncing on the heels of her feet.  

“Would you?” Namjoon asked, pleasantly surprised. 

“Sure. It won’t be a problem.” She added like an afterthought, with a face on that wasn’t sure if she wanted to hightail it out of there or stick around. 

“Thank you, Soojung.” He tasted her name in his mouth. It sounded… Nice. 

“It’s okay. I’ll see you around?” Soojung offered more for the benefit of him, looking at him for a moment more before almost nodding to herself, pivoting and walking off. She got to the doorway, her long legs making her leave twice as quick, before she stopped. She turned around, turning the stray hair behind her ear again and studied him for a moment. “Nice shirt, by the way.” And then she was gone. 

(Namjoon might be obsessed.)  

He hopped off of the table, grabbing his stuff next to him. His headache was non-existent now compared to his oddly good mood, but he did still have to get back to his boys at The Roof. Sliding a hand through his hair he put his hat back on, and looked down at his knee; staring at the beige bandage on it. 

“Jung Soojung.” He mumbled, almost reaffirming it to himself, before leaving the room with his thoughts now on food. 

 

 **★**  

 

“How are you lovesick to the sound of Nas? How does that make sense in your world?”  

They were back at the Roof, with the sun beating down through the conservatory glass and warming them. Namjoon, for once, was not on the chair he always grabbed, but instead lied in a sun beam that warmed the floor with a jacket behind his head with Donghyuk looking down at him like he was a mutant. “Don’t shame me.” 

“I’m just a bit confused, really,” Taegyun chimed in, his short black hair hidden by the hood of his light coat. Nasir Jones’ smooth voice was blasting from the Bluetooth speakers Namjoon had stolen from Yoongi's rented studio before lunch. _Whose_ _world is this? The world is yours, the world is yours._  

Namjoon’s eyes were closed, drinking in his favourite Illmatic track and photosynthesizing. “I met the love of my life, and she thinks I’m an idiot.”  

“Jimin?” The two chorused, and Hoseok laughed loudly from where he sat a ways away, Namjoon's chair. 

“I said she,” was all Namjoon replied with, baring his teeth but not opening his eyes. He ended up skipping out on food and just making his way straight to where he sat for lunch usually. The dongsaengs or hyungs weren’t around, but his friends were. 

“What happened?” Donghyuk asked then, pulling the cap he wore down over his head to protect his eyes from the strong light. 

“Jung Soojung, of course.” 

“Of course.” Taegyun echoed, like Namjoon was being ridiculous and cryptic— which, of course, he was. 

This time, Namjoon opened his eyes. “Yah.” He admonished, glaring at his friend, and Taegyun held his hands up in surrender. The music played on in the background. _The versatile, honey-sticking, wild golden child. Caught by the devil’s lasso, shit is a hassle._ “She’s pretty, and she likes Wu-Tang Clan, what more could I want?” 

“You know, Sistar have dropped a new track perfect for this summer weather. You know what's not perfect for this weather? A soul-wrenching Nas track.” Hoseok said mildly, flicking through his phone with one earbud in. 

“When _don’t_ they drop a summer track?” Donghyuk responded, like he always did when it came to Hoseok. As an aspiring producer, he was very much immersed in the music industry, even the behind the scenes of idol life. He was also very much immersed in everything Jung Hoseok. 

“True. Justice for Sistar,” Hoseok laughed, which (like anything Hoseok joked) made everyone smile, before turning on his Bluetooth and changing the mood in a matter of a tap. 

“Hoseok, I’m trying to be aloof here,” Namjoon grumbled, pushing himself up from the floor to rest on his elbows. 

“It’s okay, now you’re not focused on being a loser, you can tell us about Soojungie.” 

“ _Soojungie_ _?_ ” Namjoon barked back at Hoseok, who smiled wryly. “You know her?!” 

“Of course I do. She’s in the World Theatre class and minors in Physical Sport, doing Tennis, I think.” Hoseok replied, Donghyuk and Taegyun coming to sit near him. Namjoon, knowing when he was beat, stood up and walked toward them to the beat of Sistar. "Our lessons are on the same timetable, so we're friends."

“You didn’t tell me!” 

“And you didn't tell me you were in love with her until literally four minutes ago,” Hoseok frowned at him, and Namjoon sighed, sliding into the chair opposite him and next to Taegyun. “So. Tell us, Joonie-ah.” 

“Well, she hit me in the head with a tennis ball, so—“ 

They all burst out into clear laughter that could probably be heard in the canteen and even across the campus. Namjoon tried to act incredulous, but it didn’t really work because all they did was laugh harder. “Yah. Yah! Listen to me,”  

“Anything you say just keeps making me lose my shit, Namjoon, how can I not laugh at something like that.” Donghyuk muttered, cheeks red with laughter. 

“Anyways.” Namjoon said, glaring at his friend. “I fell like an asshole, and ended up hurting myself, so she took me back to the changing rooms.” 

“And you kissed her.” Taegyun guessed bluntly, laughing at Namjoon’s scandalized reaction. 

“No, you weirdo, she fixed me up. See?” He pulled up the bottom hem of his baggy Wu-Tang Clan shirt to reveal the plaster on his knee.  

“Yeah. She’s totally in love with you. Have a good marriage, Namjoon.” Donghyuk deadpanned and Hoseok burst out laughing again. His smile was so bright that Namjoon forgot to get mad at their other friend. That happened a lot. Why was he such a romantic? 

“Why don’t you ask to do your project on her?” 

“What project?” In all the excitement, it seemed Namjoon had genuinely forgotten. 

“I… Is he being for real right now?” Hoseok asked almost to himself, before leaning forward and smacking his knee. 

Namjoon let out a yelp of pain, bringing his knee to his chest by resting his foot on his own chair. “Why?!” He shouted. 

“The one you’ve been crying about this past week!” Hoseok yelled back, shaking his head minutely, with a small smile fighting to get through. 

“Oh,” Namjoon said, a bit stumped. “ha-ha.” 

There was a chorus of exasperated groans, and Donghyuk even made to literally leave the outlook, until Namjoon grabbed at his wrist and pulled him back. “Anyways, ask Soojung to let me trail her for two months? Are you sick? Do you need rest?” 

“You’re very funny, Namjoon-ah.” Hoseok smiled so sweetly it almost scared Namjoon. 

“Seriously, though. She thinks I’m a total loser.” 

“Why don’t you just text her and ask if she will?”  

“Because I don’t have her number or her Katalk ID. Because she could completely blow me off. Because, unlike you, not everyone adores me on the first conversation.” Namjoon listed on his fingers, sounding antagonized. He slid further into his chair.  

Hoseok studied him for a moment, before tapping some more times on his phone. Namjoon’s own one vibrated in his pocket. “There. Now you have one out of three. Text her and ask her, when else are you going to get this kind of break, huh?” 

When Namjoon didn’t reply, he added slightly softly, “She’s a cute girl, and nice. Sometimes really awkward. It’s like you, but more into sport.”  

Namjoon scrunched his face up at him, and Hoseok merely smiled and reclined his seat a bit more. The silence lulled, and all that filled Namjoon’s ears was Hyorin’s sweet voice. _It’s like you and I were put together… Lose the chance today and I know you’ll regret it, I swear._  

 

 **★**  

 

“Alright Namjoon. You can do this. Just one quick text then you can go to bed and pretend it never happened for a good eight hours.” He muttered to himself, the light of his phone illuminating the room he shared with Hoseok. It was eleven at night, and his roommate was completely out like a light, had been for hours, whereas Namjoon had been on his phone reading some trashy Young Adult novel on his iBooks app for the time being. He hovered over Hoseok’s text with Soojung’s number, before copying it and saving it to his contacts; then consequently opening Kakao. 

hey, it’s Namjoon. the guy y ~~ou knocked out today. I was wondering if we could talk~~

 _Nah, not that. That just sounds weird. I should just come right out with it, because then if she rejects me I can spend the entirety of tomorrow crying about it._  

hey, it’s namjoon!! you were my kn ~~ight in shining armour today~~

 _Well that just sounds weird and like I'm a complete and total loser,_ _so._  

_hey, it’s namjoon!! Hoseok gave me your numberㅋㅋ_

_so I was wondering whether you would want to be studied by me for my art coursework. it’s kinda an important module, and, you really don’t have 2, it would just be cool!! but yeah, don’t worry about it, if you don’t want to ill find someone else. haha_

_Sent._  

 _Fuck._  

 

“The ‘haha’ was too much. Good one, idiot.” He grumbled to himself, locking his phone, putting it on his bedside table and, without a better word to describe it, flumped back into his pillow. _Oh well, now you can sleep… no I can’t._  

What if she opened it, read it, and ignored it? Not even declining his request, and just straight up aired him. What if she forgot who he was, what if she asked if he’d gotten the wrong number, what— 

The phone buzzed. 

The phone buzzed? “Fuck,” He muttered, scrambling for his phone and almost knocking off a mug that should be in the communal kitchen instead of there. It read something like “Daegu Pride” in stark red against white, even though his ass originated from Ilsan. It was something Yoongi had brought him as a joke. (The joke was not good.)  He grabbed it, and pressed the home phone to show the notifications. 

 _vousmevoyez_ accepted your friend request! 

 _vousmevoyez_ is writing... 

He unlocked his phone, speedily putting in the four digit password and clicking the Kakao app, nervously. She’d finished her message by the time and he hovered the chatroom. He didn’t know why he was so nervous and invested, but here he was, acting like a fifteen year old pining after the noona two years above him in school. _Okay,_ _Namjoon_ _-ah. Don’t be a kid._ He opened the chat… and was pleasantly surprised. 

_ah namjoon_

_i was surprised_

_ok, i like art, can i have some more info though?_  

_ah, yeahㅋㅋ i forgotㅋㅋㅋ_

_it lasts 2 months, and all you have to do is let me take photos of you @ tennis and i guess in general? we haven’t really been......_ _......told much......_

_but I can tell you when I get more info?_

_ㅋthat would be good_

There was a pause in which it seemed both of them didn’t know what to say, but Soojung picked up the conversation quickly by saying something he didn’t expect. 

 

_actually can you come by tomorrow? I have tennis practice early but you can take some pictures then if you need to?_

 

His heart might’ve soared, the sleepiness that was plaguing him seemingly vanishing. He was lucky they were off timetable for the week or two, because he knew his 

_sure! :) thank you, what time should I come by the courts?_

_10am? ill be more awake then. you can meet the rest of the team too_

_thank you soojungㅋㅋㅋ_

_goodnight_

 

 **★**  

 

Approaching the tennis courts, he wasn’t sure what he expected. Since it was the end of lesson for people on normal timetable, he was surrounded by people leaving the sports block and going around to their other lessons. He loitered near the entrance, smiling to the people he knew and nodding to the sunbaes he didn't. Heeyeon walked past him but she was too invested in volleyball tactics to even give him the time of day. He supposed that, even though they had known each other for a while, he should actually know more about volleyball, but to be fair his only exposure to it was a couple episodes of _Haikyuu!!_ , so. 

He had on his glasses, a loose white and blue check overshirt, left unbuttoned to reveal the white tee beneath with a cat design in the chest pocket making a rude gesture. It was complimented with a light blue cap with a cute ice logo on the front even though the cap was swiveled to face the back. The light wash jeans and classic white Vans finished off his look, and he thought he looked pretty well put together.  

Put together enough for Hoseok to ask where he was going “looking so hot, at least.”

“I’m seeing someone.” Namjoon had said, slightly defensively, and Hoseok managed to cackle but it came out in a sweet, good natured way. Namjoon didn’t know how he did it, because he certainly couldn't. 

“Please tell me you’re seeing Soojung.” Hoseok had responded with a barely stifled excited look, to which Namjoon promptly left the room.

He wandered into the facilities building and followed the signs on the corridor walls that led to the outer tennis courts, and immediately heard the mixture of conversation and grunting of various girls at a court a fair ways away from him. He started to wander before he stopped. Pulling out his phone, he flicked his thumb across his screen and unlocked his phone; shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

im here, w ~~here are youㅋㅋ~~  

 _Wait, she’s in the middle of practice so her phone wouldn’t be on her._ He thought, it suddenly occurring to him. Before his nervous side worked itself up, he carried on wandering toward the courts.  

It was a wash of colour. That was the first thing he noticed about the tennis courts of SNU. The four courts alternated with both a light green and pink, the stark white lines actually creating more contrast than he would have initially expected. There were some markings in the actual court, to be expected to what he assumed was being used, carpet, due to its colour and look. It was pretty, and it made him pause again. 

Like the general embarrassment he was, he hopped back a bit like a bunny, and de-shouldered his bag. Kneeling down, he unzipped it and drew out his DSLR. Well— ‘his’ was a bit of stretch. It was one of Yoongi’s old cameras, with a crack on the casing and a scratch across the original lens. Yoongi hated it, said it felt weird in his hands now, and that his pictures never came out right so one day when Namjoon expressed an interest in photography, Yoongi had given it to him the next day, wordlessly.

"Take it, Namjoon." He had said with that callous voice of Yoongi's where he was actually, actively trying to be caring. He had come all the way to the roof, for God's sake, instead of where he usually spent his lunch with Hyosang, Seokjin and their other upper-classmen friends. 

"Ah, but, hyung," He scrambled to get his words out, but Yoongi had just shook his head and headed down and out of the area.

 

After making sure the settings were correct for the day he ended up taking shots of the courts, one by one. When he turned around to take some more photos, he saw someone in the centre of the viewfinder. “Who—?” He muttered to himself. 

He zoomed in. The girl held a racket in her hand that was swinging by her side, and her feet were pointed inwards really, actually, quite cutely. He aimed the camera higher, to reveal the pretty face he knew as Jung Soojung. 

She looked perplexed. He didn’t blame her. He took a quick photo of her among the courts, both zoomed in and zoomed out, before calling out. “Soojung!”  

She offered a bemused wave with the racket. He put the camera around his neck, before zipping his bag, picking it up and heading toward her. She was in a white tennis dress, with the Adidas logo embroidered in silver thread, and she looked like an angel. 

“Soojung!” He said again when he reached her, a smile spilling across his face. “Hey, again.” 

He shouldered his bag again and rubbed his neck. “Are you practicing?” 

“Mhm.” She made that noise again, “are you coming to watch?” 

“And take some photos if that’s okay with you?” He left it open ended, fiddling with the lens for something to do with his hands.  

“Yeah, sure.” Her hair was in a double Dutch braid, one plait near the small of her back, and the other cast over her shoulder. He looked down by chance and noted her shoes. Small, white Vans that were kind of scuffed and very much identical to Namjoon’s. 

He made a noise of surprise, and her eyes trailed down. She laughed, loud and bright, “Wow, couple looks?” She said, flashing a toothy smile, and it completely blindsided Namjoon. Where did this sudden confidence come from? Before he could splutter out a witty response than made her want to pop the question, she grinned at him for a split second. “Coming?” 

He nodded, dumbfounded, and she turned and strolled away. Utterly confused, he followed her as she led through the lines of the paths between the courts until she got to the one where her team was practicing. This court was green, and looked a little more worn in than the others. There was seven of them, waiting, as well as a coach that Namjoon had never seen before relaying on the court. To be fair, when had he ever taken in any school-related sport, and so he probably wouldn't have seen her. They were all in the same kind of dress apart from one girl who had decided to go with the same style of a vest and shorts. They all had various differently coloured rackets of choice, some thicker, some wider, and little things that made them unique to each other as people and as team mates. 

She opened the huge door gate to let them through then dropped her racket, casting it to the side. Namjoon’s eyes followed it instead of it of looking up at the girls, more shy than anything. If Donghyuk were there, he probably would have punched his arm and told him to grow up, but he wasn't, and so he did not. 

“And the Jung finally returns!” Namjoon's attention broke as one of the girls called out loudly, drawing everyone’s attention to Soojung, and also, Namjoon. 

“Wow… I took a ten minute break and you’re crying over my return?” Soojung was like a different person when it came to her team. She seemed more in charge, more powerful, and brought up to her full height.

(It kind of turned Namjoon on, but like, in a heart way.)

“Amazing, Choi Jinri.” Her eyes went wide to accompany her mocking tone, and the taller girl by the name of Jinri smiled brilliantly. He assumed they were the same age, even though Jinri looked taller, more mature with her long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail and away from her face. Her lips were fuller where Soojung’s weren’t as, whereas Soojung’s cheekbones were higher where Jinri’s weren’t. He hoped he could get a photo of them together, the composition, without over exaggerating, would be iconic. 

"Who's your boyfriend, Soo?" A girl with a kind face asked, a joking lilt to her voice. Namjoon looked up, _why did I look up,_ to find the other seven girls looking back at him with ranging expressions. Nothing mean, at the most impassive, all of which intimidating the shit out of him. 

"Yah, Seungwan." Soojung made a cute face as she scrunched it up, before turning and meeting Namjoon's eyes. "Hey." Her expression had settled a bit more and, as usual, could have used some work in the emotive department— but to give her her dues she looked a lot more softer eyed. "Introduce yourself." She continued, slightly lower, and he nodded quickly. 

He took a deep breath. Even the coach's eyes were trained on him. _Balk_. "Uh, yeah, hello." He said formally, bowing with his grip tight on his camera. "My name is Kim Namjoon, I'm a third year Fine Art and Illustration student. For my project, I'm not sure if it applies to anyone's major here, but I have to study someone for two months. Basically I'll be spending the summer shadowing Soojung when she plays tennis." 

"Soojung's boring." Jinri said loudly, making Soojung scoff. "Shoot me instead."  

Namjoon grinned at Jinri, looking like two partners in crime, until Soojung turned to glare at him. "Uh, that's an interesting point, actually," he scrambled to pick up conversation, "is anyone here uncomfortable with getting their photo taken?" 

There was a chorus of no's, to which Namjoon smiled in relief. "That's all, then. Please take care of me." He bowed again, and when he stood up he saw a few smiles.  

"Okay! Back to practice. Warm up again if you need to. Amber, I need you to practice services with Seungwan and Soojung. Jinri, doubles with Sunyoung, and when you're done with that, face off in a match against Seohyun and Seulgi. Alright?" 

"Yes, seonsaengnim!" The girls echoed, and Namjoon couldn’t help a smile, even when Soojung glared at him again. 

 

It turned out that Soojung was adept at being a net player, but also at playing the sport in general. She was skilled, talented, had mastered the forehand swing. She had footwork that a ballet dancer would be jealous of. She was incredible. 

Watching her on the court, Namjoon genuinely thought he had fallen in love. 

The rest of the girls were amazing, as well, he couldn't deny that. They had some sort of synergy, some synchronicity that helped them play off each other as opposites and as teams. He was fascinated, and took as many photos that he could. Their speed was definitely one thing that was no joke. Some of the photos he had taken were done in a shutter speed setting that didn't match with them, and had resulted in them coming out blurry.

He was happy, he thought. Definitely pleased with this result. Soojung was the most photogenic girl he'd ever had the chance to actually shoot, and the composition of ambient light contrasted against the unusual parameters like the pastel coloured court and the coach lurking in the background of some photos with a dull expression only served to create the best photo. He was sitting, cross legged courtside as Jinri hit slice serve after slice serve against Sunyoung's rebuttals, when Soojung ambled her way over to him. The rest of the girls were beginning to take a break, grabbing discarded water bottles from the side of the courts and sitting in the shade. 

"Hey," she said with a soft smirk, "take a photo of me." 

He did. She flashed a 'v'-sign. 

She looked pretty. He said so himself, even though that was a bit weird to say to someone you'd met properly only yesterday, but Soojung let out a huge laugh, like Namjoon had said the funniest thing she had heard in eons. (It shocked him a little.) "You think?" 

"You have really model-like features, I think. Your nose line, your eyes, your cheekbones," He tried not to ramble, and did so anyways. He took off his cap to run his hand through his hair and put it back on, firmer this time, if anything to give his hands something to do. "Also, the natural light looks really good against your silhouette, plus the whole foreground-background inversion..." He trailed off, aware of how irritating he could get when he talked about photography and art.  

Soojung, however, looked incredibly interested— or about as interested as she could get, with slightly wide eyes. "You're really passionate, huh?" She said quietly, looking at him like he was an equation she couldn't work out. 

He ducked his head, bashful. "I'm smart about this sort of thing, I guess. I mean, I was good at math, and okay at social science when they were compulsory, but art is the only thing that sort of... Propels me? I guess? I like to create. Writing, taking photos, drawing— what I mean to say is this is something I'd like to go into when I'm older, I think." 

"I'm jealous." Soojung let out a loud sigh, slumping against the chain link fence behind them both. Namjoon quietly appraised the slight difference in their skin tones. She wasn't completely pale, but his darker tone matched well with her lighter skin. "The one thing I'm passionate about I can't even do. I love drama, and all, but World Theatre is really not doing it for me right now." 

"You want to be an actress?" He asked, turning his head to look at her sideways on. 

Her eyes were closed, and she twisted her mouth into something unpleasant. "Wanted. Past tense. That dream stopped when I was a first year. I'm only here learning how to act because of my parents wishes." 

"Seriously?" Namjoon found himself saying a little more shocked than he meant to.  

"Mm." She did the noise thing again. "But what I want to do, is—" 

"— Tennis." They finished simultaneously, making Soojung open her eyes and look at him, chewing at the inside of her cheek in a mixture of surprise and thought. 

"You get it, huh." She mumbled, eyes sliding to look at the court again. Namjoon watched as she looked with so much longing it made him feel guilty. 

"Your parents won't let you go pro, huh?" Namjoon said, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. If his parents hadn't been so unwavering with their support of his dream, he didn't know what he would be doing now. Maybe Law. _South Korea's Embassy_ _Atto_ _rney Kim_ _Namjoon_  had a ring to it. 

"Yep." Her slender fingers stretched out and pulled an illuminative green object toward her. This tennis ball was clean and not fuzzy; obviously not used as much as the others. Probably would have hurt more if it had hit Namjoon's head, to be fair. She ran her hands over it, and Namjoon felt compelled to ask: 

"Why?" 

"Why what, why they won't let me go pro?" 

Namjoon snatched a nearby ball for himself. "Yeah. Why? It's your dream." 

"You don't know?" 

"Why would I know?" Namjoon looked at her like she had grown a tennis ball-sized head. 

"I... No, you wouldn't know. The only celebrity you know is Ghostface Killah, probably." She said with a wry smile, throwing the ball in the air and catching it expertly. 

"Celebrity— wait, hold on, I'm offended. Western pop culture is my life." He said offronted, and she looked at him like he was crazy.

"'Western pop culture is my life,' oh my God," she broke into a laugh, "you sound so..."

He laughed, embarrassed. "I know. Not really, I just like Western music. Hip-hop, and indie stuff too."

"Ah, that's why you like Wu-Tang Clan, right?" Soojung raised her eyebrows, "I was impressed. Most people here only know, like, Tupac, or Biggie."

Namjoon puffed up a little. He knew his music interests would get him somewhere, someday. He was so pleased he completely glazed over the 'most people here' comment and it's implications, and carried on, "But how does that affect anything?" He asked, returning to the original train of conversation.

"It's my sister. She's an established pro-player, in the top ten Women's global leagues and top twenty most hopefuls for winning Wimbledon this year. She's... Kind of a big deal, actually." 

He searched his mind. Her last name was Jung, Jung, Jung— 

"Jessica Jung?! As in, the famous rookie in the pro world, Jessica Jung?" 

She sighed, her face sliding into a more controlled expression at his explosion. "My parents won't let me go pro because they already have a child that’s gone off their perfectly set plan. I'm supposed to be a famous actress, settle down with a husband and a kid at twenty eight, with a strong career until I'm thirty eight where my strapping husband can take over and I'm stuck in the house taking care of our child." Her hand gripped the ball, and her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "Nope."  

"Good for you," He replied after a while of mutual silence, hoping he didn't come off as too patronizing. If anything, he truly admired her. "I think... just that... independence is a good thing."

She looked at him again, eyes squinted in case he was making fun of him. He didn't buckle, looking back at her, and she bit her bottom lip, looking away first and over at her team. "Yeah, well." 

They were silent for a bit, suffering in the awkwardness of it all. Those were the most words Soojung had ever said to him, and he had nothing to continue that streak. If he could think of a metaphor for this situation, the only thing that would come up would be him losing his eight-day Candy Crush streak because Donghyuk wanted to wreak some minor havoc. 

"I should get back to it." She said, quietly, standing up. Her calves were scuffed up, like the bottom of her Vans, and began to walk away. 

"Hey, Soojung." Namjoon said before thinking— a habit that was biting him in the ass recently— watching as Soojung swiveled. She looked heavenly in that damn dress. "I like your dream." 

She didn't say anything, but she did smile at him, unabashed and more real that he had gotten from her yet, before turning again and jogging over to link arms with Jinri across the court.  

 

★

 

A week later drew up the first week back on timetable, and the end of the first month. Professor Choi grinned at them all like a shark appraising its dinner, and brandished the book in which they recorded the Illustration and Fine Art's choices of muses for their project. Namjoon walked forward confidently, penning "Jung Soojung, World Theatre major. (Minor in Tennis)" in proud scrawl. 

That evening, he printed out a photo of her in the middle of first service. It was Soojung centric, as she teamed with Jinri against Sunyoung and Amber in a doubles match that ended match-point to Jinri after they tied at deuce too many times.  

Her hair was billowed out of her face that showcased the pure power of her serve, and her arm muscles were contracted as she pulled the racket back to swing at the ball suspended in mid air.  

He placed it askew on the top right side of the second page of the sketchbook he was using, doing that first instead of christening the new book with an intro-page. He wanted to do that last, he thought. He did, however, place the photo he took of her standing over him, 'v'-signing with a slight smile. Though he wasn't going to introduce her yet, nor knew what to write for that, he hesitated what to annotate. 

He hovered his thin graphics pen over under the photo. It dipped a few times, almost reaching paper, before he tossed it aside and grabbed his handwriting-only, fountain pen. He dabbed it on his tongue lightly, a bad habit picked up from his father, before plunging in and writing the one thing that stuck in his head and didn't let go. 

_I have a dream._


	2. Chapter 2

**MONTH 2**

 

"So, how's it going with our Soojungie?" Hoseok said one day in the middle of a balmy June, specifically the day he managed to convince Namjoon and Donghyuk into supervising the first year's "First Year's Summer Bash" 2016. The university's Student Association Union was adamant in running it every year, in attempts to convince the school board and anyone who listened that SNU loved their first years being happy and carefree and not in crippling self-doubt and pressure under the general stresses of university.

Hoseok had, in fact, managed to convince their younger year friends as well as the rest of their little crew to help supervise, because that was what he did— convince people, that is— and usually, 9 times out of 10, it worked.  

They were carrying boxes of decorations and equipment back and forth from the tech department to the main hall where it would be held. Donghyuk was somewhere trying to sweet talk the cafeteria staff into organizing take-out chicken, pizza and cola rather than them making a convoluted noodle dish. It was a wonder the staff even liked him that much, let alone tolerated him. The music major had a way with older people, for all he made his generation hate him.   

"It's going really well, actually. I've been to a few matches with her and gotten a few shots, filled out like half of the pages in my project book and with school breaking up for summer we're going to meet up outside of school for training sessions and shit. I'm excited." Namjoon gushed— wait, no he didn't, he was _Namjoon_. He didn't gush.  

(That was a lie. Namjoon absolutely gushed. He was Namjoon.)   

He definitely found Soojung easy to sketch from the photos he'd been taking. The annotations weren't even a struggle, which, to be fair, was great because that was what he suffered the most with.

"Whoa!" Hoseok's explosive noise made accompanied with an elbow to the flank made Namjoon blanch. "So, marriage next week then, yeah?"  

"Nice one. Really good joke, Hoseok-ah." Namjoon smiled, all dimples and flat tone. "Don't. She's... she's nice, you know?"  

"Of course I know, Joonie-yah." Hoseok said, with a softer smile, because he did. He was the only one willing to listen to his Jimin problems, so when another person's come along and changed those feelings, he'd be the first to understand. They headed into the open double doorway that lead to where the "bash" would be held. They left the boxes down where they were piled, with other second and third years slowly unpacking them and sorting them out. The dance event thing wasn't until the Saturday after next, so they had a while to fully complete things.   

Namjoon quietly surveyed his surroundings whilst Hoseok got to talking with someone tasked "with bunting", whatever the hell _that_ was. Even if Namjoon didn't have much stock in it, he couldn't deny they were trying their hardest to celebrate the end of the second term and the official "hump day" of their first year at SNU. It was two years since they had been on the receiving end of this, and even though they had both gotten roped into it, they wanted to at least make it somewhat enjoyable for the younger years.  

His eyes snagged on black hair and a smile that usually left him dazed, and Namjoon realized he was looking at the side profile of none other than Park Jimin. He supposed it was good he wasn't bowled over by just the presence of him this time. Jimin was standing with a taller boy Namjoon didn't recognise, who's hands were clasped together by his lap and an uncomfortable look on his face. After checking Hoseok was still busy and still seeing no sign of Donghyuk, Namjoon waded his way through the lake of boxes over to the two. With the whole Soojung thing going on this past month, he actually hadn't had the chance to see Jimin— only fleeting times during lunch and in between classes. He missed him, honestly.  

"Jimin," Namjoon started with a grin, holding up a hand in a wave, to which he was stopped by a finger held in front of him.  

"Hold on, hyung." Jimin said, not looking at him but at the new boy. The boy looked increasingly uncomfortable, pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands. "Say that again, Jungkookie."  

"Taehyung hyung, he... So, he might have gotten the DJ's fired and banned immediately from the premises." The kid wasn't really a kid, apart from his timid personality. He was tall, way taller than Jimin, in crisp brown Timberlands that had clearly never seen a day of hiking and ripped jeans to match.   

"Taehyung. He..." Jimin sighed, smushing— with lack of a better word— his hand all over his face. "He did that, huh?"  

Namjoon grinned, biting his lip to not fully laugh at this situation. "Are you gonna need a day?"  

Jimin levelled him with a dry look. "Hyung, I promise you that quoting _Suits_ in a time like this isn't productive."  

Namjoon took offence to that. Quoting _Suits_ was always productive. He said just as much. Jimin rolled his eyes, patted Namjoon's tummy in a sort of placating way he only let Jimin do, and pulled out his phone. "I am going to write a strongly worded text to Taehyung with a lot of angry emojis, and then cry to Hoseok hyung."  

"Can't you ask Yoongi hyung to DJ?" Namjoon asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The kid next to them's eyes seemed to shine at that, the prospect of not complete and utter failure. 

"I can, but I need at least two other people to take part in shifts so that Lee seonsaeng-nim doesn't come after us." He sighed, tapping away at his phone. Professor Lee was the manager and lead of pastoral care for the first years, and Namjoon had already faced his wrath once before.

"I mean, I'm sure I can help." Namjoon offered, casting a busy Hoseok with a side look. "Hoseok can find another supervisor. And maybe Yoongi can grab some people from his music composition and production class?" 

If the new guy— who he guessed his name was Jungkook— next to him was anything now, he was the human representation of at least seven exclamation marks. He was like an excitable puppy, bless him. "That'll work! Yes, hyung," he grabbed at a bewildered Jimin's upper arms, just shy of shaking him, "trust me, it'll work." 

"If not," Namjoon continued, flashing a confident grin at the now excited new boy, "I can ask Soojung. She's got an eye for music." 

Jimin's eyebrow raised at that, an impish grin pulling at his mouth. "The infamous Jung Soojung, huh, hyung?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Namjoon said, affronted. And how did Jimin know about Soojung?

Jimin giggled, and Jungkook smacked at Jimin lightly. "It doesn't mean anything, hyung. Will I see you tonight?" 

"I— Tonight? Wh—?" Namjoon spluttered, crossing his arms out probably in reflex. 

"You know. Taehyung's end of term gathering before we all go back home for the summer? Our dorm? You're coming, right?" Jimin's voice was teasing, and the smile on his face really brought Namjoon down to size.  

"Sure. Sure, Jimin." He finally uttered, hoping his voice was calm. "I'll see you later, yeah?" He nodded to them both and headed out of the hall for a breather. It seemed, with the whole Pining Over Soojung ™ Event of 2016, he hadn't really gotten over Jimin, which. (He let out a sigh.) Wasn't good.  

He watched the milling students in leaving their lessons and heading to lunch, and let his fingertips trace the rectable shape in the pocket of his jeans. It only took him a second to work up the courage to swipe his phone open and open Kakao to the chat waiting for them. Over the few weeks they'd been talking more and more frequently, and meeting up more often. He hadn't just been bragging to Hoseok about their budding friendship, because he was genuinely happy he'd been slowly managing to pull her out of her shell. 

 _are you around???????_  

He sent it quickly and hoped for a quick response, but that was unlikely. Around this time it was always wind-downs with her team, or doing some reps of her own around the courts. He was surprised when a few minutes later, amidst the bustle of the people around him. 

_just finished practice. about to head to late lunch with jinri, whats up?_

_just wanted to ask when we should meet up again. summer break starts in 2 (two!!!!!!!!) days so_

_ㅋㅋtwo!_

_you can swing round my house on friday_

_if you want, i mean._

_my dad installed a court for sica unnie and i use it most nights. the courts by han river are terrible and i Hate them so we're not going there_

Namjoon looked down at his phone, surrounded by a sense of complete bemusement. Her house. Soojung was— and at her house— he was about to lose his goddamn mind. He was slightly sad at the prospect of not being able to take a silhouette photo of her as the sun sets over the Han, and typed back a response.  

_the lighting is so good @ the han tho_

_:(_

_——_

_we can go to the Han one day if you really want to_

_:)_

_thanks soojung-ah_

She typed out a single angry emoji and signed off. Namjoon smiled quietly to himself, feeling it pull at his lips unintentionally. 

   
 

Namjoon did end up going back to Taehyung and Jimin's dorm, but a little later than anticipated. He'd ended up going back to his own dorm at a completely different hall to his friends', which meant he forced Hoseok to stay behind with whilst he chose an outfit for both Jimin's get together that night and for the thing with Soojung the day after. 

"It's like a love triangle but, like, reverse."  Hoseok quipped, spread-eagled on his own bed. Namjoon ignored that, and pointedly so. He had gotten finished and ready to go out an hour ago, around about when the gathering actually started, but after Namjoon had kept him behind to wait for him he had ended up pulling out his old Nintendo DS and firing up his save file for Harvest Moon. "Nice! I found Violetto." 

"Vio— who?" Namjoon responded, only half listening as his eyebrows furrowed; staring into his closet.  

"The leader sprite of the Healing team." Hoseok said, like it was obvious as day. Namjoon craned his head back to look at Hoseok with an incredulous look. After a pause, he continued, "What?" 

"Why are you the way that you are?" 

"Why haven't you played Harvest Moon before?" The other boy said, peering over the lid of his DS, making Namjoon shake his head. "Who hasn't played Harvest Moon?" He continued, trailing off into a mumble and falling back against the bed again.  

"I played Metroid Prime Hunters." Namjoon deadpanned. 

Hoseok gasped melodramatically, covering his mouth with one hand. "You heathen."  

"Anyways, this is serious. I can't look... Bad." He finished lamely. 

"For who?" Hoseok parried, a wry grin on his lips. 

"Well." He came up short. Who was he stressing about again? "You know. Uh, both." 

"That was alarmingly honest." His roommate offered, leaving his DS on standby on his side table and sitting up. He was in a black graphic tee, with a dark grey and black long sleeved shirt underneath it that was bunched up near the middle of his thick forearms. Namjoon envied the way he managed to look cute and "manly" (whatever society deemed that, Hoseok definitely encapsulated it somehow) at the same time. All Namjoon looked like was the physical representation of awkward. We all have our hangups. Hoseok's, though, seemed nowhere to be found. "Can you say it out loud?" 

"Why would I do that?!" He exclaimed, a folded Acne shirt in his grip as he swiveled to face Hoseok. He was sitting up sort of the way a puppy would as it observed its owner, except in this case, maybe the roles were reversed. 

"It's the first step to recovery." He replied solemnly. 

Namjoon scrunched his face up. "I'm not an addict, Hoseok." 

"Namjoonie, I'll say it plainly. You're a love addict. And, without the help and support you need, you can't move on from this." Hoseok said with a broad smile, but a serious tone.  

"You're serious." Namjoon stated bluntly, leveling him with a dry look. 

"When am I never?" Hoseok said. He shuffled to the end of the bed, and patted the space next to him. "Come. Sit." 

"I'm not going to—" 

"Sit, Namjoon." Hoseok said sharply, and Namjoon scrambled over. A scary Hoseok was not a Hoseok he liked to deal with. As soon as his ass touched the bedsheets, Hoseok's smile returned, bright and breezy. 

"So, what's going on with you and Soojung?" He said for the second time that day.  

"I don't—  I just don't know, okay? I think I like her. No, I know I like her. I don't want to have these... Feelings, again, I guess, it's just hard when she's so pretty and so passionate and so smart and so..." He let out a heavy sigh when he felt Hoseok's fingers slide across his back. "So much." He ended lamely.  

Hoseok remained silent for a moment, before continuing on. "And what about you and Jiminie?"  

"Nothing. You know nothing." Namjoon said, somewhat bitterly, and instead of facing Hoseok's probably patronizing expression, he turned his face and scowled at a polaroid Hoseok had on his wall. It was freshman year, on one of the first times they had all gone out as friendship group, before The Year Jimin Arrived ™. Namjoon was the one taking the photo, and Hoseok's face was tucked into Namjoon's shoulder. Donghyuk was in the background with Taegyun (both of them making gestures Hoseok would have frowned upon), and you could just see Hyosang, Hunchul and Yoongi's shoes at they left the scene of the crime.  

"Namjoon." Hoseok prompted, gently, but firmly still. 

"It's just... He's been so constant. He's so kind, and he's so thoughful, and he's so good looking— he's just. He's Jimin. He's always been there." 

"Do you like him, or do you like the thought of him?" Hoseok pondered, rubbing small circles into Namjoon's back.  

"I don't know." His voice trailed off into a groan, and suddenly he fell back on the bed and, after grabbing a pillow, shoved it over his face and yelled like a lovesick teenager. The only difference was he was a lovesick twenty year-old. 

"I think I do." Hoseok murmured, picking the pillow up gently and throwing it over onto Namjoon's bed, narrowly missing the Daegu mug that Namjoon still hadn't removed. "I think Soojungie is someone who you're not used to, that has all of Jiminie's qualities, and this whole thing is messing with you purely because you do, in fact, like her a lot." 

"I think that Jiminie, the sweetheart that he is, is so incredibly oblivious to your feelings because something is stopping you from telling him. Whether it's the two years of solid friendship or something else, I don't know. But think about the fact that you haven't, and you probably don't plan on confessing to him, and stop letting your feelings for him control your life." 

"Soojung is there, and she is willing to... Do whatever this is. Until you're ready to stop. And I'm not here to force you to chose who to follow, but I'm sick of seeing you tear yourself up over this, okay?" 

Namjoon looked at Hoseok. Hoseok looked back, a soft, endeared look in his eyes like a mother watching her son go off on his first day of nursery. Namjoon sat up, and chewed the inside of cheek as his studied Hoseok for a few moments until he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the curve of Hoseok's shoulder.  

"I hate you." 

"Why?" Hoseok laughed, and Namjoon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.  

"Because you speak so much sense and I hate it." 

"I love you too, buddy. Now put on your shirt and your ripped jeans and lets go watch Insidious." 

   
 

The gathering didn't serve to be the best distraction in the end, as Namjoon found his eyes drawn to Jimin every so often. It wasn't until they started watching movies did he finally relax. He was sandwiched between Yoongi, who he felt he hadn't seen in twenty years, and Jungkook, the boy that Taehyung was apparently using for his end of term project and the excitable puppy he had interacted with when he was sorting out the First Year bash.

He ended up drinking enough of his soju to get into a pleasant buzz so that he forgot all about his stresses, so that when he ended up actually talking to Jimin, he didn't mind whatsoever. At one point in the evening he petted Jimin's hair when he did something endearing, before heading off after a brief "see ya' later" to find more alcohol. He noted the confused look on Jimin's face and didn't think about it at all, even after he woke up in the morning back to back with Taehyung at the end of his bed, who's hand was suspicious clamped around Jungkook's wrist. They slept horizontal on his bed, and aside from the haziness, it was the best night's sleep he'd had in weeks. 

   
 

★  

   
 

On the Friday, Namjoon woke up later than he expected and back in his dorm room. He suspected Hoseok. The first thing he did, though, wasn't question it but rather was to check his phone. There were four seperate texts on his screen, and he started from the bottom-up. The first read from Hoseok, a quick message to say he had left campus early in the morning to catch the first morning train back to Gwangju. _Don't forget what I said!!!! !!!!! ! \,^v^;;/_ , he added. _Hope 2day goes well~~~~~~_  

Namjoon smiled despite himself at that, and ran a hand through his floppy blonde hair; tapping out a quick response back.  

 _thank u. <3 u. tell your mum I said hello_ 

The second was a message from Taehyung in the Kakao group chat, thanking everyone for coming and wishing them a good summer break. The (50+) symbol signified people had already started making plans, and he wasn't about to check them now. Later, when he was travelling to Soojung's, he would. 

The third was in fact a message from Jimin.  

 _hiiiii_ _hyung_ _r you around still?  want to get coffee?????_   

He bit at the inside of his cheek again. This was the new Namjoon. He couldn't forget what Hoseok had laid on him yesterday. The new Namjoon didn't drop everything for Jimin, so maybe distancing would be the trick? His thumb hovered over the message, but he didn't reply, instead flicking up and reading the final text. It was from Soojung, at 6:31 in the morning. He watched the tiny "1" disappear as he read over it. It was an address, accompanied by the words _come round at at least 3pm.. then we can go to the han if you want in the evening._

He checked out the time. It read, plain as day, 11:43 a.m. He looked back at Soojung's text, and then promptly swore. He hopped out of the bed, shedding his striped pajama trousers as he went and into the ensuite bathroom. It was at least two and a half hours by KTX train to get to Gyeonggi-do, and he realised if he didn't kick it into gear quick, he'd be late. "Fuck," He swore under his breath, before catching his toe on the cabinet inside the bathroom, adjacent to the bathroom door and going down. "Fuck!" 

   
 

(It took him a while but he ended up leaving the house by twenty past twelve. The jog he disguised as a fully blown, free-limbed run to get to the local train station situated close to the university, and once he copped his ticket did he finally feel like he could breath. He felt like this was a metaphor for his life, somehow. Feeling brave, he finally opened the text from Jimin and sent him something simple.  _sorry, i've gone home 2 ilsan. have a good time w jungkook_

Letting his breathing return to normal from both the breath he didn't know he was holding and that frantic run, he surveyed the area to get a seat and waited the ten minutes left for the train.)

   
 

When it ended up arriving, he was on the group chat regardless. At the top of the chat, there were blurry selfies both from the night prior and the morning to show everyone had gotten off safely. Yoongi was in the background of a photo, leaning against the coach window with his headphones in and a scrunched up, somewhat cute look on his face with Taehyung smiling broadly. In another, Hoseok and Donghyuk were together like the power couple they truly were (but bit anyone's head off if they ever said that to their face.) Donghyuk was doing the most disgusting, over-exaggerated aegyo Namjoon had ever seen and it made him laugh. He sent a quick pic, late to the party, of him looking sad with nobody to go with. At least he got to see Soojung, so if anything, he considered it a better detour until he actually got back home.  

He then sent a text to Krystal, simply saying _on my wayyyyy_. It would probably be better to inform her now since the trip was quite long. 

"Speaking of which..." He muttered to himself, as he boarded the train. He opened his contacts and picked "Mum", before bringing it to his ear. On the third ring she answered. "Mum!" 

"Oh, Namjoon-ah my boy, are you coming home? It's your last day of term, isn't it?" 

"It was yesterday, mum." He smiled, despite himself. He slided into a quad seat for the space and looked out the window as the train started to move. "I should be back by tonight. I'm gong to a friend's house first, just to wrap up some work, so..." 

"I'll prepare a meal--" 

"Ah— that is— whilst I really love everything you make, and want you to make it for me every day for the rest of summer break, can we skip it tonight? Maybe... You know... Start fresh tomorrow?" 

"Yah!" She exclaimed loudly, and he brought the phone away from his ear; wincing. "Are you being ungrateful?! Yah! Kim Namjoon!" 

He sighed. This was gonna be a damn long summer.  

   
 

★  

   
 

When he got to the house in the end, he was impressed. Soojung's parents, along with her successful sister were obviously more wealthy than she let on. It wasn't quite a mansion but rather a more large average house in a gated community. From the front, you could see behind the mid-rise green wall the tennis court in the back, a normal colour compared to the washed out pastel he'd saw at the school.  

He approached the door, knocking on it to find it was already open. "Uh, hello? I'm coming in." He announced, stepping into the hallway. It was big, and the place where you took off your shoes was right next to him, so he did as such. His trainer socks made him look like a complete and total loser, but since they were going back outside soon, he wasn't about to get a blister. (He deserved more than that.) 

The interior of the house was nice. There were various news clippings and medals hung around the walls and on shelves, accompanied by nice looking vases and pieces of art. The colour scheme was subdued, a simply blue and crème mix that sort of put Namjoon at ease. What he saw next, didn't.  

He walked around the corner, de-shouldering his backpack and letting it hang by his calves as he gripped the top strap. He then promptly dropped the bag. 

Soojung was there, alright, with her earphones on in one ear and looped around the other. She was in ripped jeans that were like a second skin on her thighs, and a orange and red decal Thrasher tee a few sizes too big on her. She was in a position he was pretty sure only she could understand its level of comfort; on her side, leaning on her hand and using her elbow to prop her up, with one leg tucked up closer to her chest than the other. One of the most important things about this entire set up, was the fact she clung to a huge bag of Frazzles and was promptly tossing them up and catching them in her mouth. 

(He might be in love.) 

He didn't understand how this entire thing was so ideal and girlfriend material to him, but it was, and he burst out laughing when he thought it. She, promptly, jumped out of her fucking skin and stood up in shock. 

"Yah, Kim Namjoon!" She exclaimed loudly, her voice a higher pitch than normal, balling her fists. 

"Don't hit me, I've been on way too long a train ride for this." He said, tapering off into giggles. She looked at him in shock, came over, and smacked his shoulder anyways. 

"Ow!" He yelled, slapping a hand to where she had hit him. 

"You should have said something!" She said, grinning all the same. She brushed herself down, before realizing she's in this outfit rather than her tennis one. "And I need to get dressed into my tennis gear. You," she jabbed a finger right in the middle of his chest, "came too early." 

"It's half three in the afternoon!" He complained, rubbing a hand over where she had poked him. She looked at him in surprise, then leaned over to grab her phone. A quick press to the home button confirmed what Namjoon said.  

"Oh." She offered, voice turning bashful. Her hair was down today, long, dark, and straight. She ran a hand through it, mouth twisted, until she shrugged and made to leave. On her way past, she patted his stomach, and Namjoon bit back a grin. 

"No apology?"  

She made a indiscernible noise, accompanied with a vague shake of her hand, and he burst out laughing as she headed up the stairs.  

 

"Okay, what you— what are you wearing." She deadpanned. He had turned up in a black jacket zipped up to the top, and so he had been safe. That was, until he had taken it off.  

"It's a Lakers jacket, Sooju—" 

"I know what it is, Namjoon. I'm American." She rolled her eyes, "Yah. You really wanna fight me?" 

"How is this making you want to fight?!" He complained. He was trapped in the doorway, since Soojung was refusing to move from the double door entrance to the courts. "Wait, you're American?" 

"You didn't know?" Soojung's lips twitched and she tilted her head slightly. "Really?" She said, in that clear English accent he heard from the first day they met.  

"Listen, I can speak English too," He responded in English, before switching back to Korean. Her eyes were wide. "I was just surprised, is all. Can I go in, now?" 

Soojung's face turns back to the horrified look she had initially. "Look, you’re not coming in here wearing that in the tennis courts. It's like the biggest affront to sport since Garbine Muguruza upstaged Serena for the French Open." 

“Is it _seriously_  that deep, I'm not even the one playing tennis here.” 

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules of sportsmanship." She said in a petty, patronizing tone she used usually when she was trying not to laugh. "Go to the black dresser in the room you're in, there's a Venus William's zip up you can wear instead.”  

“Will it even fit me?” Namjoon said, dubiously.  

"Sure, I'm pretty sure my dad's worn it before.” She waved vaguely for the second time. 

He shook his head, but did as he was told. Not before, however, unzipping his jacket and discarding it to the side of the door. In celebration of the warm wearing, he was wearing a sleeveless grey shirt that nicely complimented his arms and what once were black turned washed out grey jeans. He didn't miss the way Soojung's eyes traced the faint lines of muscle. He used to work out but he enjoyed painting more, and so the only last reminder he ever used to take fitness seriously was his build. 

He grabbed the zip up and put it on, blanching at the obnoxiously bright pink and purple clashes, but either way she _was_ right. It fit. 

"Welcome to my humble abode," She grinned, before turning and jogging onto the other side of the court and beginning to warm up. All Namjoon could do was appreciate, because, like he had said many times, she was beautiful. (And he was ridiculously whipped.) 

 

He took a few photos whilst she practiced her serves. They spoke on and off, Namjoon got the photos he needs withdraws his art book from his backpack to add annotation to the pieces before placing the photos becausese God know's he'd forget later. Soojung came over halfway through and sat next to him to look through the book. He'd so far drawn every single photo he'd taken, including the group ones with Jinri. He'd inadvertently kept his promise, go figure. 

"These are so good?" She said, flicking through the pages. 

He scoffed jokingly, "Don't sound so surprised." 

"Seriously, Namjoon." She murmured, and he looked up. They were awfully close and he could feel her breath on his cheek as they looked at each other. He stuttered slightly, before shrugging and looking away. She levelled him with a blunt look before her eyebrows raised, "Take a picture of my back!" 

He looked up again. "Your... back?" 

"My back, look." She smiled again, pushing off the clay court and swiveling to show him. She was in a white umbro shirt similar to the ones he saw her wear at school, slightly more tight fitting and a tennis skirt. On the back of the shirt, however, was the surname "Jung" in capital letters and stark, black writing. 

"I want one." Namjoon's eyes widened, leaning over his book to grab his camera again.

"You don't even play any sport." She said, still facing away.

He stayed quiet, took both a portrait and a landscape photo, before saying, "These look so nice. Why am I so good at this?" 

"And not at all self-assured," She added with a raised eyebrow.  "Come on. You're gonna play me." 

"Play what?" 

"Tennis. Come on, Peter Parker, let's go," She said, her English slipping out once more, making him smile. 

"If anything, I'm Clark Kent." 

"Well, I'm not Lois Lane." 

"More like Lex Luther?" He laughed and then held his hands up in surrender when she came at him with her racket. 

"There's rackets in the bag over there," She pointed to the corner of the fenced in court. He broke into a smile again, shaking his head and walking over to the wide bag. He, not knowing the first thing about tennis, picked the racket that felt the easiest to control. Not too light, but not too loaded either. He braced a hand against the fence behind him, before gripping the chain link to pull himself up. 

"Got one."  He waved it at her. 

"Good," she slipped in a smile, and tossed him that infernally green ball. He caught it. Barely. "Now, you can serve." 

"What." He intoned, staring at her like she was crazy, and then fixing the ball with that same stare. He felt a phantom pain on his temple.  

"Come on, Namjoon-ah." She called, and he choked. "It's like a test. Use the stuff you've been seeing for weeks and put it into action." 

He studied her for a bit, but she wasn't joking. She cocked her hip out and rested her racket against it, a taunting smile playing on her lips. He liked this side of her, no matter how weird this situation was. The competitive Jung Soojung with a wicked smile and a killer serve. 

"Remember. Feet splayed either side of each other, and don't strain your wrist." 

"Yeah, yeah, Soojungie," He grumbled to himself. He tossed the ball up in the air a few times before hitting gold and watching as the ball flew... and hit the net. 

Her laugh was rich and unexpected. She covered her mouth a moment too late, loudly enjoying Namjoon's failure. "Okay, _ahhhhh_ okay try again." She said, giggling into the back of her hand.  

He made a face. 

 

The match went on for twenty minutes. She let him grab a match point or two, until she went full game mode. He didn't know why he was taking this so seriously, either, though. He hadn't done any amount of activity since first year at SNU. The amount of activity for him per day amounts to three or four walks from his halls to campus per day, or even week. Something about Soojung brought out his fiery, competitive streak too. 

Right before she was about win the set, Namjoon hit the ball up into the air higher than he had actually meant to. With the sun hanging high in the sky, he didn't see where it went until it fell somewhat slow toward the rim of the net. They both started forward, focused on that fuzzy green ball, with their rackets gripped tight in order to tip it in favour of the others court. It wasn't until it was too late did he realize what was going to happen. 

Soojung isn't looking at him, her hawk eyes tracking the ball, but Namjoon was looking at her, and she didn't hear the quick "Soo!" until it was too late. They both got tangled into the net, Namjoon tripping over his own feet so that he falls over with his back to the clay beneath him and one of his hands on Soojung's waist. Soojung had managed to land on him, with one hand to save her fall caught in Namjoon's other hand. Their bodies were pressed flush together, their faces so ridiculously close that he noticed all the things he had never seen before.  

Her beauty mole that was faded on her cheek, the thickness of her lashes, how thin her wrists were. Everything about her was perfect, and Namjoon was in utter hell. 

She scrambled to get up, sitting back on her haunches on top of him with a wide-eyed look on her face. Namjoon let go of her wrist and instead let out a noise of discomfort. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even see— are you okay? Are you hurt?!" 

"Why do we keep meeting like this?" Namjoon groaned in lieu of a response.  

"Be serious, does your back hurt? Did you break anything?!" Soojung said, pressing both her hands to his cheeks and squeezing them to get a reaction. His lips pursed.

"I'm good, I'm good, Jesus," He grunted in a weird voice from how hard his cheeks were being squeezed, batting her hands away. "You gonna get up?" He laughed, and jerking her slightly. She froze, looking embarrassed as she stood up. 

At that moment, they heard and exaggerated cough coming from the house and they both jumped. In the threshold was a young woman, not too older than Soojung, with medium length hair that was dyed a light brown. She was in jeans, and a white, two quarter length sleeved shirt. She looked the picture of class, and it didn't take Namjoon long to clock who it was. 

"Is that... Your sister? Namjoon mumbled, not liking the stare she was fixing him. 

Soojung could only nod, looking shocked at her sister. "Sica unnie?"  

The look Jessica Jung, one of the lead players in a table written by the ATF themselves, a global champion in the rookie side of the pro leagues and Jung Soojung's idol was looking at Namjoon like she saw right through him, and he was lying if he said he didn't feel 100% intimidated.  

"Dinner time." She grinned like a shark at Soojung, who gulped. "Are you staying, Mr...?" Her voice was on the borderline of flat and cunning. 

"Kim. Kim Namjoon, uh, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jung-ssi," He said, standing and starting towards her with a hand extended. It was weird. He had seen her in a rerun he'd streamed online of the Davis Cup back in 2015 a few weeks after he found out who Soojung's sister actually was. He had seen her receive all of the cheers of excitement from her fans in the audience with a gracious smile and bow, her hair tied up in a basic pony tail. She screamed fresh, and kind, even though she was known for her "Ice Princess" moniker during matches, her blunt, closed off expression and harsh grunts known for throwing off her opponents. He definitely understood how they felt right now.

"Please. Jessica, or Sooyeon noona." Jessica said, smiling in a way he wasn't sure was entirely friendly. He gulped. "And I insist you stay for dinner, Kim Namjoon." 

 

Dinner was definitely a mistake. Her parents were nice enough, and he sat next to Soojung (bonus!) but sat opposite Jessica (oh God, why.) Her mother had smiled at him from the end of the table, making menial conversation for the first ten minutes, until she asked about how long they've been dating.

Jessica had burst into the most raucous laughter he had ever heard, Soojung had choked on her dwaeji bulgogi, and Namjoon excused himself with a respectful bow as soon as he finished his meal later to go home. They never managed to get to go to the Han, but Soojung had walked him to the door with an apology and an unsure smile. 

That night, when he finally got back to his own house,  Soojung had texted him a thank you for making it over to hers. She then asked him whether he wanted to come to her game a week from Saturday. Her final amateur game.  

 _I_ _f_ _i_ _beat my opponent_ _in two_ _sets_ _then my parents will finally let me go pro_  

 _PRO!!!!!!_  

 _think_ _you can come_  

 _?_  

 _ㅋ_ _ㅋ_ _wouldn't miss it for the world_  

 

★ 

 

The good thing about this was the fact since the match was on the day of the first year's dance, he didn't have to go, and therefore didn't have to hang around Jimin whilst being with Soojung. He thought he had finally let go of his feelings for the guy, especially since he spent what seemed like every waking moment with Soojung now. The bad thing was, everyone was stressed, even him.

Tcourt for the National South Korean Amateur Championships 2016 was situated in Busan, and was so much bigger than Namjoon was used to. Soojung was buzzing with a nervous energy he hadn't seen from her yet, and she could see her talking with Jinri and the rest of her SNU tennis team. She had told him about the matches she would be taking part in, and the times they were on— luckily, they were more early on in the day. She would be going up against the other three best doubles teams in the nation with Jinri as part of the top 4 quarter. And then, her singles match was two matches into the singles finals. She was going against Kyunghee's infamous Heo Chanmi, and this match would make or break her pro career. 

Even Namjoon was a little daunted, sitting up in one of the first rows in stands with her parents in front of him. The net was higher than Soojung was used too, which meant her iconic drop shots and faux hits would be harder to execute. He'd seen her in action, though, and he knew how hard she'd fight.  

What he didn't expect, however, was Jessica appearing in the stands with a face mask on and her hair tied up; sunglasses worn on her head like a crown. The ultimate "I'm a celebrity, but I don't want to be known" obvious looks. Namjoon, frankly, didn't know what she planned on with that look, but he wasn't about to call out her poor decisions. She sat down next to Namjoon, who nodded to her in a sort of respectful half bow, and greeted her with a "Uh, hello, noona." 

"Hello, Namjoon. I didn't know you were coming today." She said, politely, keeping her eyes on Soojung, who was about to walk onto the court with Jinri in tow. Even Jinri looked nervous, who Namjoon thought was the pinnacle of confidence. The bright sun hung high in the sky, casting shadows across both the court and stands. 

"Soojung-ah invited me," He replied, eyebrows inching higher. 

Soojung, as if sensing them, sees them sitting together, and her eyes narrows slightly. Jinri tugged on her arm to pull her attention to the game. They were going against Yonsei first, and Jinri took the opening service. The best thing about her was her unforeseeable, hidden power serve, and how she managed to command the court with her backhands. Soojung was more understated in doubles, tending to stick to the inner square of the court as a net player in order to drop shot and win match points; essentially accommodate Jinri's lead.  

The match ended with 6-4, and then they continued to win the next two games with at least a two point lead. At the end, the girls embraced herself. This was a great win for Seoul National, especially against such a prestigious in sport university such as Yonsei. Namjoon found himself on his feet along with Jessica as they, along with the other SNU supporters, cheered and hollered "Choijung! Choijung! Choijung!" over and over. 

 "It's been so long since I experienced something like this," Jessica murmured near the end of their third game. They had absolutely slaughtered Sungkyunkwan, winning more points than they knew what to do with. Krystal's footwork was on point, and Jinri and her had a synergy the other teams could never come up to par with. 

"What, an amateur game you mean?" He asked, curious. 

"Mmm." She mumbled, eyes locked on Soojung as she returned back to the net for the match point. _Looks like that runs in the family, huh?_ "I've been in Australia and France and even Germany for the past two years rather than being at home. I haven't been to one of Soojung's games since she her first year." 

"She's amazing though, isn't she?" Namjoon found himself saying. Jessica's eyes slid to Namjoon's profile, a smile playing on her lips he hadn't see before, not properly. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," She said, shaking her head. Soojung ran across the court with speed Namjoon couldn't even anticipate, watching as she fake swung, making her opponents tail her. Jinri, at that moment, darted forward and aimed a flat serve to the same ball. The match ended 7-6, and the crowd cheered for ages as Soojung and Jinri hugged eachother immediately. Namjoon just stared down in amazement. If he appreciated them before, he absolutely idolized them now. 

This meant that SNU had won the Championship game and held the Women's Doubles title for at least until next season. The next, however, would be a bit more of a struggle. Women's Singles finals. 

Half an hour later, Soojung came out of her respective area to face Chanmi. Chanmi didn't hold the Championship title, but she was feared throughout the district as a worthy opponent. She had the first service game, and after shaking Soojung's hand as graciously as she could, knocked Soojung off balance with a slice serve she wasn't expecting. Namjoon sucked in his breath, sharp and piercing. He didn't think anything, knowing it was going to be alright— he was _sure_ she would take it back. However shot after shot was rebuffed, and Namjoon could see Soojung was getting to the end of her patience tether.  

Chanmi ended the first game winning it easily, with serve after serve being unpredictable and unusual. She went against everything most players chose to do, and managed to turn it into her favor. During their break, Soojung went back, drank some water and looked absolutely disheartened. 

"She can do this." Jessica said, nudging Namjoon with her elbow. "I believe in her. Do you?" 

"Of course!" He exclaimed, as the second game began. Soojung's resolve looked like it had strengthened, and as she had the first service game, she did something that nobody saw coming: she utilised a kick serve that completely blew Chanmi away. Jessica chuckled quietly, crossing her arms. 

"Risky move, kid." She mumbled, smoothing a finger over her lipgloss-covered mouth where she had been biting her lip the entire of the first game. 

"I'm just worried for her." Namjoon said after a moment. Soojung was racking up points but so was Chanmi. "This is her dream. I want her to have that dream." 

Jessica was quiet for a moment, until she sighed and said, "I know she resents me, even if she doesn't mean to."  

When Namjoon didn't say anything, she continued on. "We were very close. I'm her unnie, but it was almost like we were best friends. When I went pro... Well, I went to all these different countries, I trained most of of my adult life so far abroad, I've been living out her dream... We don't see each other, not much, not anymore." Jessica looked sad as she watched her sister fight back, tooth and nail. "She wants this so bad. So damn bad, and I was always the reason she couldn't." 

When Namjoon looked from Soojung to Jessica, he saw the same thing within them. A fighting passion for a sport that meant more than anything to them. "She might envy you, noona. Sure, I would too, but she also admires you more that anything or anyone in the world. You're her goal in life." He leant down to the bag by his feet and withdrew the camera. Taking off the lens cap and making sure the adjustments were correct, he took various photos of her. (Hoseok had mentioned the fact he was like her own personal fansite, to which Namjoon replied with a smack on his arm.) 

"Hell, you're her role model. You're everything to her and a bit more, so she's not doing this just for herself, but for you too." He continued, looking back at the photos through the viewfinder and smiling softly. 

Jessica's mouth was shaped like a small 'o', and when he looked at her he assumed it was because he had talked to her so casually. "Ah, I'm sorry, I—" 

"No, Namjoon, you're right. It was just what I needed to hear." She said, smiling cautiously at them, "I understand, now." 

Namjoon was about to ask what she understood, but the crowd errupted into cheers. Soojung had managed to fight back, and win the match and the entire set. Namjoon was on his feet in seconds followed by Jessica, and the first thing that she did was scan the crowd for Namjoon. He jumped up, fist pumping the air like an thirteen year old boy would do when his favourite football team won a match. She then dropped her racket, and moved across the court and up the steps to face Soojung.

He'd seen her in many different aspects. Cold, unsure, blunt, sarcastic. Kind, soft, cute, endearing. Jung Soojung. But this... this was new. He watched as she grabbed his wrist and tugged her toward him. His face was shocked, he was sure, and he dumbly followed like it was muscle memory to be drawn to Soojung— and it was, actually. She put his arms around her waist and cupped his cheeks again, her lithe fingers hooking under the definition of his jawline and then she dipped in. The kiss was long, longer than he expected, and he felt like one of the protagonists in those dramas where they freeze, but what did he have to fear? His hand trailed up her back, and he kissed her again and again and again, amidst the cheers surrounding them. 

When she pulled back, her bright smile rivaled the sun coming up at dawn, and he had never felt happier. 

 

★


End file.
